


The Promise

by autumnyte



Series: Boss Moshe Hazzan [12]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Clothed Sex, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the Stilwater Police Department fiscal year, and Troy has a ton of work to do. He has only a few minutes to stop and take a lunch break. </p>
<p>Moshe can work with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Chyrstis, from the 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge. She requested "Moshe/Troy - Clothed Getting Off".

Troy loathed the end of the Stilwater Police Department fiscal year. The whole month was one nonstop crunch, and between reconciling the current year’s expenses, finalizing the budget for the upcoming year, and working out the entire department’s annual compensation increases, he’d already put in a 70-hour week, and it was only Thursday.

He leaned back in his chair and evaluated the work still before him. On the right side of his desk was a stack of personnel files a foot high, and the computer monitor to his left displayed a sprawling, eighty-tab budgetary spreadsheet.  

"Having fun yet?" 

Troy glanced up to find Moshe leaning against the doorway, holding a large brown paper bag. He sighed. “Doesn’t anyone pay attention to ‘do not disturb’ signs anymore?” 

”Have I ever? Didn’t reckon it meant me, anyway.” Moshe took a step inside, closed the door behind him, and shut the blinds to the office. 

Troy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mo, whatever this is… I can’t today. I got mountains of work here.” 

"It’s just lunch." Moshe walked over and plunked the bag down on Troy’s desk. "You gotta eat, yeah?" 

As Troy opened the bag and peeked inside, the smell of something spicy and savory filled his nostrils. It definitely wasn’t Freckle Bitch’s. “You  _cooked_?” He raised his eyebrows. Moshe rarely did any serious cooking outside of holidays and special occasions. And today was neither. 

"I did." Moshe grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and began pulling items out of the bag. There was a Tupperware container with something colorful inside, another filled with what appeared to be sesame pastries, and a sandwich bag full of pita. "Spent the whole morning making matbucha and meat sambousek. And it’s still warm, so let’s tuck in." 

Troy’s stomach grumbled, at odds with the work he knew he needed to do. “Listen… it’s not that I don’t appreciate it. But I don’t even have time for a lunch break. What made you decide to do this today, of all days?”

“’Cause I know you. I’d wager you haven’t eaten a meal that wasn’t take-out in days—the meals you didn’t skip all together, that is.” Moshe sat at the edge of Troy’s desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And you been coming home so late and leaving so early, I haven’t seen… or touched you all week.”

Moshe’s brown eyes were staring at him with a potent combination of concern and longing, and Troy wanted nothing more than to grab him, shove the stack of files aside, and make up for lost time right then and there. That impulse was exactly why lunch was a dangerous idea. “I miss you too—like crazy—but I  _gotta_  get through this shit today.” 

Nodding, Moshe opened one of the containers, releasing an irresistible aroma of sautéed eggplant, peppers, and tomato. “Then let’s strike a bargain. A quick lunch. Twenty minutes and I’m out of your hair.” 

"Twenty?" Troy felt his resistance waning. "Just lunch, though. This can’t be one of our, uh, extended afternoon breaks.” 

"I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about," Moshe murmured, leaning closer, his fingers traveling up to wind through Troy’s hair.   
  
Troy closed his eyes, leaning gratefully into the touch, before forcing himself to pull away. “I’m serious. I want your word.” 

"My word?" 

"That we’ll both keep it in our pants today."

"You sure you want me to make that promise?" Moshe wet his lips, and Troy had never been less sure of anything. "You look like you could do with a good, hard shag right now."   
  
"You have no idea," Troy muttered. He swallowed dryly. "But there’s zero time. Not even for a quickie. If you wanna do lunch today, those are my demands." He gestured to the food. "Take ‘em or leave ‘em."

"Yeah, I’ll take ‘em." Moshe shrugged and dipped a spoon into the matbutcha. He lifted it to his lips with a glimmer in his eye and added, "I can work with that." 

***

Fifteen minutes later, Troy found himself on his back, pinned to the desk, with Moshe kissing the daylights out of him. In retrospect, Troy realized he should’ve been far more specific about the parameters of his demands. Not that he truly objected to the current situation—not with Moshe’s lithe, muscular, hard body grinding eagerly against him.

They’d finished eating and Moshe had rounded the desk to kiss him goodbye. The gesture seemed harmless enough at the time, but Troy had underestimated how tantalizing Moshe’s lips would taste and feel against his own, after days with no contact. He’d tugged him closer and both of their bodies had responded reflexively.

And now they were dry-humping on his desk. It made Troy feel like he was a horny teenager all over again, fumbling around in the backseat of his Danville, parked up on Mount Claflin. 

The difference now was that Moshe knew what he was doing, in a way that was definitely adult. He rolled his hips in a measured rhythm, rubbing their erections together at such a perfect angle and with just the right amount of friction that Troy couldn’t help moaning. 

“ _Mo_ ,” he rasped, his fingers scrabbling at the back of Moshe’s polo shirt before he managed to grab a firm hold of the fabric.”You’re gonna make me come like this.” 

"Good," Moshe answered, breathless. A smile flickered across his expression as his thrusts picked up speed. "Still adhering to my promise." 

"Jesus _. Fuck_  the promise.” Troy bucked his hips insistently against Moshe, desperate for more friction, more skin. “Get us both out of these pants.” 

Moshe shook his head. “I may be a criminal…but I’m a man of my word.” He dipped his head to kiss Troy’s neck, sucking at the flesh just above his collar. “Believe me, I’d  _like_  to feel more of you.” 

"Do it." 

“If I hadn’t made that promise, I could already have you bent over this desk, my cock buried deep in that tight, hot ass of yours.” Moshe whispered against his ear. “And with you this hard… I’d stroke you and fuck you so good that you’d be seeing stars.” 

“ _Yes_.” Troy groaned. The mental image alone was practically enough to finish him. His balls tightened, and every nerve in his lower body felt like it was on fire.

"But I gave you my word," Moshe said, shifting to look down at him. The teasing in his tone gave way to sincerity. "And I’d never break a promise to you—not ever."

And that did it. The honest affection written so clearly on Moshe’s expression sent Troy shuddering helplessly over the edge. He pulled Moshe into a deep kiss as waves of pleasure washed over him. 

After a moment, he felt Moshe jerk against him, muscles going rigid as his fingers dug into Troy’s hips. Troy opened his eyes just in time to see Moshe’s face, twisted in ecstasy as he came. 

***

Troy settled awkwardly into his chair, watching as Moshe gathered the empty Tupperware containers and stuck them back in the bag. “Well?”

"What?" Moshe asked, glancing back at him. 

"Aren’t you going to say,’I told you so’ or some shit? You’re right. I probably should have just let you blow me or fuck me."

Moshe chuckled. “Oh, I dunno. Haven’t done it like that since I was sixteen. It was fun.” He walked over and gave Troy a quick peck on the lips. “Besides, I could tell the second I laid eyes on you that you needed to come.” 

"You weren’t wrong." Troy sighed and shook his head. "But doing it in my pants was, um… not a great idea. That’s gonna get uncomfortable in a hurry." 

The smile Moshe was wearing turned unmistakably smug. A nonverbal I-told-you-so. “Well, I’m gonna home and take a shower—”

"Bastard." 

"Oi, let me finish." Moshe reached out and smoothed his fingers through Troy’s disheveled hair. "I’m gonna go home and take a shower, then I’ll come back to the Station with a change of uniform for you and some, uh… stuff to help you get cleaned up. Alright?" 

"You’d do that?" Troy asked. 

"Least I can do." Moshe gave Troy another soft kiss before heading toward the door. He gestured at the stack of folders on the desk. "Reckon I oughta bring you the rest of the food so you’ll have something proper for supper as well, since you’ll be stuck here all night." 

"Thanks, that’d be great," Troy said. A warmth spread through his chest that had nothing do with the afterglow. “Hey… when all this fiscal year bullshit is wrapped up, you and me are hopping in an old beater with a huge backseat and driving up to Mount Claflin.” 

Moshe shot him a puzzled glance. “We are?”

"Yeah. Our, uh, exchange just now made me realize we’ve never been to Inspiration Point together. There’s a thing or two I’d like to show you." 

"Hm. Well, that’s got me intrigued. It’s a date." Moshe waggled his eyebrows before shutting the door behind him.

Troy reached for a cigarette and returned his attention to the spreadsheet on his monitor. Somehow, the eighty tabs seemed less daunting than before. He made a bet with himself that he could get through at least ten of them before Moshe returned.


End file.
